


What Stirs The Night

by AniM8dManga13



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demons, Erotica, F/M, Foreplay, Halloween, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Samhain, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniM8dManga13/pseuds/AniM8dManga13
Summary: Alternative Universe: A Samhain tradition ruined by one thing after another leads to some....HEATED....Encounters between clans, classes, and worlds. Porn with LOTS of plot. May continue as own story with enough comments and attention.





	1. With Fangs And Fur

With Fangs And Fur

Samhain was upon them. The harvest moon was out, and the hunt had begun. With a howl, Dimitri took to a sprint, his pack following him into the night. His golden white fur glowed under the moonlight, running into the outskirts of the small town below. A sacrifice of cattle was left out, held back by fencing made of leftover wood scraps.

"Just cattle tonight? Com'on, where're the maidens at?" Sylvain whined, taking a bite out of one the sacrificial bulls. Felix snarled next to him, digging out a heart and ripping it between his jaws.

"Shut up Sylvain."

As the wolves feasted, the villagers brought out a parade of men and women in chains, wearing tattered rags and looking worse for wear. Prisoners, they assumed, if the brands and tattoos on their bodies were any indication.

"Oh, that's what I'm-" Felix slapped his paw down on the red wolf's head.

"Those prisoners aren't for us," Dimitri said, focusing on the line of human sacrifices. As the village guards tied them up and left for the night, a fog fell around them. The coven had arrived. The screeching of bats echoed, a swarm surrounding the prisoners. The wolves stood and watched as each person fell one by one, pallid and cold. From the fog, an elegant boot took a step forward, the sound of more boots hitting the ground following right after.

"Dimitri, happy Samhain! I see we're not the only ones beginning the hunt," a woman covered in crimson and blood red cooed, walking up to the large white wolf.

"El, um, Empress Edelgard. A happy Samhain to you too," the wolf replied, facing the vampiress with weary eyes. Her royal guard, Hubert, stood next to her, as Dedue, Dimitri's right hand, stood by as well. 

"How quaint this town offered both our clans a sacrifice. We are in the middle of nowhere, but few, if any, towns are keen to invite both to pass through," Hubert thought out loud, looking around with suspicion.

** _BANG BANG BANG_ **

From the underbrush, rifle shots fired, one grazing Hubert's arm, burning him. Silver bullets.

"They're hunters! This is an ambush!!" he shouted, clutching his injury.

"SCATTER!!" Edelgard and Dimitri commanded, taking off as more shots were fired. Dimitri charged forward, catching at least two of the offenders by the throat, beside him, Edelgard clawed through at least three. While they were capable, the number of the men, and the sound of reinforcements approaching, forced them to flee rather than fight.

The two knew not where they were when they finally felt safe. Dimitri collapsed, returning to his human form as he lay on the grass, panting for breathe. Beside him, Edelgard dropped to her knees, huffing and puffing, her usually pale face red. While Dimitri believed it to be from exhaustion, Edelgard did not turn to look at him, for when wolves turned, they had to be, well, naked. And Edelgard, while no prude, was not keen on seeing a man she has spent many restless dawns thinking about bared before her.

"Are you alright?" said man asked, his voice thick with worry. He gently placed a concerned hand on her shoulder, and Edelgard flushed further. His hand, soft against her, was suddenly very large in her mind, and she struggled between shrugging him off or leaning into his comforting touch. She had seen and felt these hands in action, watched him tear heads off with a flick of his wrist, remembered the welts he left on her skin from a tight hug as children.

"I-I'm fine, just....Let me catch my breath," she said, still turned away from him.

"You're starting to shiver! Are you cold? Here, let me-" Curse his earnest and genuine care! No matter how many times she watched the horror he unleashed on the battlefield, she couldn't separate the beast from the loyal, sweet companion he truly was. With closed eyes and a forced grin, she turned and replied, "Oh, no, just reflex from our escape. I'll be fine in a bit, I promise!"

"....Okay. Tell me when you feel better. We need to find our men. I'm worried about Sylvain and Felix," Dimitri said.

"I understand. I don't even want to imagine leaving Linhardt and Caspar alone for too long," Edelgard responded, helping to fill the silence. 

Slowly, Edelgard pushed herself off of the ground, ready to move. Dimitri turned in response, now back to his wolf form as he raised his snout and inhaled around him.

"I've picked up a few scents toward that direction. It's faint, so they must've covered more distance than we have," he said, making his way through the brush, Edelgard following behind.

"Who among you would you consider the fastest?" Dimitri asked, stopping to reassess their bearings.

"I would say Caspar, but he's also the first to throw himself into combat, not run away. I guess, with Hubert injured, Ferdinand, but he would stop to get help. It might be one of your own, rather than mine," the vampiress replied.

"Fair enough. Felix is the fastest in my pack, and acts on his own more often than not. He would rush forward and get help later. We'll see if it's him somewhere nearby."

They had circled the area as best as they could. The scent was still looming, faintly, but no sign of either werewolf or vampire could be found.

"At least it doesn't seem to be a hunter's trap," Dimitri sighed, laying down, tired out again. Edelgard followed, losing her footing as she tried to plant herself on the field as well. She luckily landed on the wolf's soft back, using him as leverage to settle herself.

"Thank you," she said, huffing. For a moment, she felt lightheaded, white spots in her field of vision, and leaned into Dimitri's coat. Worried, he nuzzled at her, almost whimpering.

"El? Are you alright?" he asked, wrapping himself around her.

"I...I'll be fine, I just need some...Rest," she responded. Her labored breathing was the only sound between them, and Dimitri knew rest was not what his old friend needed right now. To her surprise, he shifted back, clutching her close to his body.

".......You need blood, don't you?.....Give me your dagger," he said, steadying her back against his chest. Edelgard turned a bright crimson, noting how firm and warm his chest felt.

"I-I'm fine Dimitri! I just need a break! Nothing more!" Her nervous tone told him otherwise, and he slipped his hand at her hip, pulling out the familar dagger he knew she kept with her at all times. Even after all these years. To Edelgard's disbelief, he cut into his arm, holding it up to her, daggered hand holding her waist. She tried to resist, to argue against his insistence on feeding her, but the smell of rich iron and flesh won her over. She dug her fangs into his cut and drank deeply, her senses taking in the taste, smell, and feel of the wolf around her. Flushed, and having drank enough, she began licking at her friend's cut as it closed over and healed.

"Feel better?" Dimitri asked, his words quiet and soothing, ghosting by her ear. She turned toward him, a dazed look in her eyes. Edelgard had always known him to be kind, loving, and thoughtful of others. She also knew he would grow into his raw strength, his power, his position. Did he know how unbelievably irresistible he was? How many others would kill to win his heart and hand? Yet here she was, enveloped by him, smothered in him, and she knew she could not, would not, share him.

"Oh, much better," she purred, turning her whole body into him, eyes raking in his formidable body. "So, so much better." Dimitri looked back at her with innocent blue eyes, completely clueless to her gaze. Edelgard moved herself up, laying gentle kisses up and down his face, fingers stroking the curves of his muscles.

"Umm...El? Are you sure-" she cut his words off with a kiss, her fangs grazing his lips, hands stroking downward. The wolf hissed as he felt her finger stroke his exposed length. At the sound, she pulled away from him, only to slide onto his naked lap, pulling her underwear to the side to rub her drenched wetness over his prominent bulge.

"El..El...Please, what are you doing?" Dimitri huffed, face now a rosy red as he dug his claws into her hips, trying in vain to hold her still. She, in response, simply stroked her clit over the base of his shaft, letting out an arousing moan. The searing look she gave him had him growling. She pulled his head down toward her, into another kiss to silence him. She shifted her weight around, angling herself right at his swollen tip, finally getting him to respond. He returned her kiss with fervor, teeth, tongue, and low, rumbling growls. His grip had changed, instead of holding her hips still, he pulled her as close as possible, caging her against himself. Sliding his impressive length into herself, Edelgard broke their kiss to let out a breathless, keening moan, tightening around him.

"Edelgard...You're quite aware of what this means, don't you?" Dimitri growled out, his breathing ragged and strained. His partner responded with another cry of ecstasy as she shifted over once more. She was knocked down, pinned to the ground, legs held above her head as, without warning, her wolf pounded into her with full force. The only sounds between them were broken, feral cries, like animals mating. And from how filled Edelgard was when they finally finished, it may as well have been.

"Oooh..." the vampiress cooed, reaching to hold the man above her. He instead picked her up in a delicate bridal hold, nuzzling her as he slowly got up, blue eyes glowing with soft love and adoration. Her lavender gaze returned the sentiment as she sighed into the crook of his arm.

"We should continue searching for the others at dawn. I'm...Sorry if I've hurt you in any way," Dimitri said, his voice low and soft. Edelgard clenched her legs shut in response, letting out a small, breathy giggle.

"I don't think anything you've done to me could ever be called hurting...Especially since I'd love to have you take charge next time," she teased. His face bloomed crimson, turning away from her as he tried to collect himself. Yes, next time....His body was thinking about it faster than his mind could process it.

* * *


	2. Sonnets And Love Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix fights off some hunters, gets himself saved by a nosy singing girl. And boy, do they get CLOSE.

**Sonnets And Love Bites**

At Dimitri's orders, they fled. Felix and Sylvain had been separated for a while, but the black wolf's gambit seemed to have worked for now. Four of the hunters were hot on his trail, and, with teeth bared, he charged right into them. Tearing at their throats and arms, ripping through veins and arteries as best as he could, his body was trembling with pure adrenaline, the searing, burning pain of their bullets and knives pushing him to fight faster, harder, give his pack more time to get to safety, to find help. Finally, with a bloody muzzle, the red liquid caked into his paws, his own flesh riddled with bullet holes and open wounds, he trudged forward, no goal in sight, collapsing as the fight or flight instincts wore off, the world going black.

The smell was the first thing he noticed as he came to, acrid burning and firewood. He felt himself, in human form no less, and jolted up, only to come back down when everything felt like a hot poker had been stabbed into his body. "AAUUGGH!!" he screamed, burying himself in the bed and blanket he found himself in.

"Don't move! I'm still removing those poachers' bullets from your body!" The voice was high, soft, most definitely female. Slowly, he turned his head toward the sound, and saw a small woman over a fire, mixing things together.

"Where am I? Who're you?" Felix asked, voice raspy and tired from strain.

"I'm Annette, and this is my cabin. I heard from my father Dimitri's pack didn't return from the first Samhain hunt. Good thing I found you not too far from here," she answered, scooping some of the burnt and charred....Something, into a salve.

"How do you know about us?"

"My father, Gustave Dominic, is a packbound knight. He's served the pack his whole life," she answered. For a moment, her eyes had a lost, faraway look in them. He knew better than to say anything else about it. "I'm going to need to heal your wounds with this. Poachers use precious holy bullets, which do so much more damage than hunters' bullets. Sorry if it gets a bit chilly," she said, gently pulling the warm blanket off of him. He was surprised he was still naked, even more so that this girl didn't even flinch as she spread the ointment over the holes and cuts on his body. There was a momentary sting, but it melted into a comforting cool afterward.

"What happened to those hunters after me?" Felix asked, relaxing into her touch. His wounds felt so much better. If only he could at least sit up again.

"Those weren't HUNTERS, they were POACHERS!! You did a good job killing them, but if I didn't drag you here, others would have found you and finished the job," she answered, face scrunched into a cute, frustrated pout as she ran some ointment down his inner thigh. He held himself still, preferring not to have any...ACCIDENTAL touches make things awkward. She finished her task, calmly and carefully wrapping the blanket around him again, turning back to the fire.

"It's going to take a while before you can head back out. I haven't heard anything bad yet, so your pack must have found safety somewhere. Don't shift, it'll mess with the medicine, okay?" With motherly tenderness, she patted his head, and headed through a door behind him, leaving Felix alone with his thoughts.

Annette was...Strange. He remembered a Dominic around the pack grounds growing up, watching him, Sylvain, Miklan, Glenn, and Dimitri, but he never mentioned a daughter, let alone any wife or child. The man he remembered threw himself into training the pups, and drilling young Ingrid into the perfect packbound knight like himself. He even helped Dedue adjust to life at the castle, and took time to guide the Duscan wolves into their new, protected lands.

Through the haze of his thoughts though, he heard a tune from behind the door. His hostess was singing, and, though he'd never been one for music, he very much liked it. As he was getting into the tune, the door opened, and Annette emerged, a plate of meats, cheeses, bread and greens in her hand.

"You should be able to move a bit now. I made you some food, since it seems like you haven't fed since your hunt," she said, helping him sit up as she handed him a set of utensils. To his relief, he could move again, if only slightly. His muscles still ached and wounds still tingled and stung, but progress was being made.

"Can you explain the poachers to me? I've never heard of them before." The food, while not amazing, was good enough to wolf down in his hunger.

"....The situation in Duscur was their fault. I heard Dimitri's family, and two of the Fraldarius', were ambushed there as they were slaughtering the Duscan packs. These poachers....They call themselves Agarthans. Hunters kill only to defend their cities and villages, and can make agreements, contracts, and deals with nightlings. That's how packbound, bloodbound, and oathbound knights came to be. But poachers...They hunt for the sport, for the power. They almost wiped out the Nabatean tribe, Fodlan's only dragonkins. Turned their bones and hearts into war weapons and conquered territory after territory by lethal force. I imagine they have similar atrocities planned for vampire and wolf clans," she said, taking Felix's cleaned plate.

"So their bullets..."

"Gold, silver, platinum, all filled with Nabatean blood, their blades carved from dragon bone. It's cruel and disgusting magic." Her eyes again looked faraway. Things in his own life began to make sense. After the Duscan incident, Glenn and Miklan had gotten into more and more heated fights with their fathers, eventually leaving the pack. It left him, Sylvain, and their fathers, especially Rodrigue Fraldarius, flabbergasted at their decision. Gustave started to shadow him and his friends everywhere they went, no longer going back to his home and taking up permanent residence on wolf lands.There was an unease in him now, with these revelations. So much more was going on. With his father trying so hard to push everything his brother left behind onto him, Sylvain's father pushing him harder to take a suitable lifemate, and Gustave just leaving behind a daughter he never even hinted at existing, it was apparent serving Lambert and Dimitri were more important than hundreds of thousands of lives targeted by these poachers. Felix felt sick to his stomach.

"I see. So that's why my brother left," he muttered. Annette turned her head to him, suddenly red in the face.

"Your brother left? You don't resemble....Wait, y-you're Felix Fraldarius?! AUGH! I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE-" Felix cut off her jumbled apologies by pointing her fork and knife in her face.

"Save it. I don't care much for all the formalities. Only my stupid father does," he grumbled. Nervously, she took back her utensils, and, with plate in hand, practically jumped back through the door. She could be heard scolding herself in what he assumed to be the kitchen, followed by the clangs and clatters of pans and dishes. A melody soon made its way through the door, will silly words of handsome men and magic. He chuckled to himself, quite liking her bizarre song. It was easy to relax to, and with a full belly, warm fire, and soft blankets, he tucked himself in again and fell asleep.

When he woke, the house was dark. All fires were out, and his blanket wasn't as warm as it was when he fell asleep. No sounds were coming from inside the house, and no signs of its owner were detected either. Felix pushed himself up off of the bed, very much aware that he could move again, the stings and burns gone. The breeze caught him off guard, but even naked, the cold was never a problem for wolves. Curious, he began walking around the house. Annette didn't seem to have much in material valuables, but the front room was covered with books upon books of complex and intricate magic from all around the world. On the wall, there was a map with circles and marks on every corner, and it didn't take too long for him to figure out it was a map of wolf territory. The tea table beside the map was covered in knick knacks, from barely used make-up brushes and broken quills to dusty teacups and empty trays. There was a large armchair by the doorway, a baby blue blanket thrown over the seat letting Felix know where his hostess had been sleeping. Where could she have gone? The light streaming in from the windows was...Bleak. It wasn't going to be a sunny day, and the wind howled outside-Oh fuck no. She wouldn't.

Nevermind her warning, he sprinted out of her house in full wolf form, and his nose picked up her scent in the biting rain once he was outside. There was some blood in it, and Felix rushed out, a big black blur in the brush. Luckily, he had found her very quickly, not even a few minutes away from her own home. The state he found her in though, was not as lucky. Annette was huddled up in the grass, quivering at the cold. Her many layers were completely soaked through, and the bloodstains, while slightly washed out, still contrasted greatly against her white and blue sleeves.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, GOING OUT IN THIS WEATHER?!" Felix shouted, roughly tugging at the hood over her head. Shivering, she turned to him, face in a scowl and pout, trying to look mad even though her lips were turning blue.

"W-we-well, e-exc-cuse m-me f-f-fo-for h-h-he-help-p-ping!!" she stuttered out, still somehow defiant in her pitiful state.

"Ugh, just hop on, we need to get you warm and dry," Felix commanded, lowering himself to her. She got on, wrapping herself around him.

As soon as they made it inside, he wrapped his wet, sopping body around her.

"Get out of those clothes and light a fire," Felix said, pulling at her soaked clothes. She gave him a glare, but with a flick of her wrist, the fireplace roared to life. He looked at her expectantly, curling around her.

"I-I'm-m n-not ge-get-getting n-na-k-ked i-in f-fr-front of y-you!!" Felix wanted to roll his eyes.

"You'll freeze to death. I'll look away if it helps, but I'm not leaving you here until you're dry," he stated, deadpanned and clearly tired of her weird stubbornness. With a huff, Annette nodded, the shuffling of her soggy clothes the wolf's cue to keep his eyes away from her shivering body. On instinct, he tucked his legs and tail in closer to her, his now dried body radiating body heat. The tiny mage leaned into his black fluff, her teeth no longer chattering.

"Why the hell did you go out there in this weather, you idiot?" Felix asked, gazing into the fireplace.

"A message had been passing through that Gautier has made it to the Galatea house, and from there, Dimitri had been found, his vampiress with him," she answered. "I had to make sure, so I went out to the messenger's outpost. It wasn't supposed to be too long, but I saw some Agarthans sneaking around the area and...Well, I had to do SOMETHING!!"

"So you tried to get yourself killed?! Are you stupid?! Or just insane?!" The wolf snapped at her, his little promise not to look at her gone from his memory. All he could feel was hot rage at this woman, holding his tail to her body like a towel, face once again in that stupid, cute pout.

"You're so mean!! I took them out all by myself too!!!" Annette squeezed his tail tighter against her, face red. It took a while for Felix's brain to catch up to his senses, but when they did, he turned back around in a huff. He could feel her curves against his fur, and his eyes refused to let go of the image of her soft body covered in scrapes, bruises, and burns. Oh no.

"Well, you're feeling better than before. Get dressed," he huffed.

"Oh, no, not yet! I need to get the hot water started! You were out there completely naked! Take a nice hot bath first. You can go back to your pack after the rain," she said. He could feel her body leave his side, and a part of him was tempted to pull her back down with him. He crushed that thought immediately.

"You should bathe first. You almost froze to death."

"It's rude to bathe before a guest!"

"I just saved your life, genius. I think I have more authority right now."

"You jerk! You're still healing! I just got caught up in the weather!"

"Don't worry about me, dammit! Take care of yourself first!"

"I'd rather share a bath than make my guest wait!"

"Fine!"

"FI-WHAT!?"

Felix shifted and stood up, his naked form looming smugly over the red-faced mage. She was too shocked to even attempt to cover herself, and just stood dumbfounded at the wolf's challenging gaze.

"Well Annette? Lead the way," he said, snapping her out of her daze. Trailing slowly behind him, she cursed herself for being so easily surprised....And for finding her grouchy guest VERY attractive, now with her full attention on him.

The bath was cozy, to say the least. Annette had gotten a fire started and had filled the tub halfway up with water. Felix watched with interest as she flitted about, humming a tune to herself.

"You really like singing. Ever considered joining the opera house?" he asked, peering over her shoulder to see what she was throwing in.

"AUGH!! Th-that's not your business! Besides, only the best of the best can make it in, and it's just a hobby of mine," she replied, throwing more petals and dried herbs into the warming water.

"...I think your singing's great," Felix said, casually leaning over next to her. Annette froze for a moment, face red yet again, looking quite intently at one dried white rose petal fluttering into the bathwater.

"Okay Felix, I've added some healing herbs and flower petals to help with your wounds, so you should be feeling all better and ready to go once the rain stops!" The speed at which Annette spoke, and the tense, high pitch of her voice had the wolf raise an unimpressed eyebrow. With a sigh, he scooped her up in his arms, carefully avoiding her flailing limbs as she panicked and shrieked, and set them both into the steaming, fragrant water.

"You're such a bully!!" Annette squealed when Felix dropped her into the water near his lap. Unfortunately, the force of her little slip landed her a bit roughly on his....Sensitive...Organ. For a moment, Felix gasped in pain and froze. Annette turned to him, a complete blur when she felt his...Thing...Under her.

"Oh my goddess, I'm SOOO sorry Felix, I didn't mean to, I thought you deserved some kind of payback but this isn't what I had in mind, I'm sorry-"

"ANNETTE!!...STOP...." Felix hissed, willing the pain away with his hands. His bathing partner looked away, blushing as red as a boiled shrimp, trying so very, VERY hard to ignore how much she wanted to run her hands up and down his battle scarred chest.

"I-is there anything I can help with?" Her voice came out in the quietest squeak, nervously side-eyeing him as his movements seemed to calm down. She averted her eyes too fast, because she seemed to have missed the long stare Felix was giving her. His head had shot up at her question, as it would have been horribly inappropriate out of ANYONE else's mouth, but he couldn't look away from her naked, flushed body, her bright hair clinging to her bare shoulders, and how she, in that moment, looked like some divine spirit here to bless his lost, broken soul.

"Do you really want to help me now?" Felix asked back, voice low, quiet, and rough with something the girl couldn't quite place. Slowly, she turned to him, nodding with the cutest look of determination, which gave way to shock as the wolf pulled her in for a hungry, toothy, rough kiss that seemed to just override her brain. He nipped at her bottom lip, lapping his tongue into her mouth every now and then before kissing and nipping a trail from her cheeks, to her jaw, and down the column of her neck. She smelled like the bathwater they were sitting in, roses and orange peels and pure, warm sunlight. Sylvain would never shut up about this if he ever found out.

"Oh!" Annette was startled back to reality when Felix sucked on the junction between her shoulder and collarbone. Shyly, she let her hands lay on his chest, heaving a very seductive sigh as she ran her fingertips down the lines that defined each scar.

"You frustrating, unbelievable, naughty little siren," he growled, pulling back up to give her a dark look of lust. This time, Annette happily took him by surprise, her hands sinking into his smooth, black hair and smashing his lips into hers. Well, they weren't cold anymore. Not with the water and friction between them as Felix touched his staff to her little bud, both gasping into their kiss before their hips were rocking into each other, her breasts pressed against his pectorals and hands all over each other. He came quickly, and into the tub as she continued rubbing against him to reach her own climax. Finally out of breath, they gazed at each other, and at the sloshed mess they made on the bathroom floor.

"You're coming back with me, and I'm punching your father in the jaw for leaving such an amazing woman out here on her own," Felix huffed out, nuzzling into the mage's neck.


	3. Serving YOU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain runs to Galatea-to Ingrid-for help, but who ends up helping who in the end?

Serving You

Sylvain only looked back once as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Felix was holding back the hunters, jumping at any chance to battle. He didn’t know where their pack leader had gone, and Goddess knows where Dedue ran off to, but out of all their pack, the red wolf knew the lay of the land the best. The sounds of rifle shots and chaotic brawling faded into a quiet whisper as he followed the trail of stars he knew would lead him to someone who was always ready to help. Slowing his sprint, he laid low in the tall grass, breathing deeply as he pushed forward. It would only be a little bit longer. He just needed his friends to hold out until then. 

There it stood. Beneath the full Samhain moon’s light, the alabaster castle shone against the dying fields. He had arrived in Galatea territory. He picked up speed, running full force toward the glowing beacon of hope, and as the soft glow of the lit lanterns became more and more visible, he let out a long, loud howl. 

“WHO GOES THERE?” Sylvain’s wolf tail wagged, almost gleeful at his success. He knew she would be patrolling the night. 

“INGRID!! INGRID!!!” he hollered, almost jumping onto her in full armor and into the tip of her halberd….Not that he hadn’t been on the end of it before, to be honest. Her blonde hair practically glowed under the moonlight, furrowed brows and stern glare piercing his heart as effectively as her weapon. 

“Sylvain?...What-What happened?! What did you DO, you idiot?! Is that your blood?! Oh, GODDESS, where’s Dimitri? And Felix? Dedue?!!?” she went off, starting to panic as she held her torch closer to him, now seeing all of the damage on his fur. 

“We were ambushed by some….Hunters….At the village. Had offerings for us and those Adrestian bloodsuckers, but it was a trap. We got separated, and I knew I could count on you to save our asses like you do every time,” Sylvain explained, trying not to scratch a bullet wound hidden on his inner back leg. He didn’t need Ingrid even more worried than she already was. Her responsibility as a packbound knight had her stressed and tense enough. 

“And you LEFT them?! You’re telling me Felix, Dedue, and DIMITRI are out there, ALONE, with VAMPIRES as their only support?!” Ingrid was practically shrieking at him, and he flattened his ears in response to hopefully lessen the ringing. 

“HEY, calm down! I saw Felix in the middle of SLAUGHTERING the riflemen, and the vampires with Dimitri are from Edelgard’s coven. You know, the ones who’ve been allied with them since before we were born? And you know Dedue’s never too far from Dimitri, fucking lapdog. Look, I’m just telling you I came here since this is the closest part of wolf territory that we could get to, and I KNOW you’re going to get us help.” When he was done, Sylvain had gotten up and shaken the dirt and dew off of himself and nuzzling his muzzle against Ingrid’s hip. She sighed in response, knowing at least he was right to come to her family’s domain.

Once the old wooden gate creaked shut behind them, Sylvain shifted back into his human form, not even bothering to cover up. He’d known Ingrid since she was a toddler, they bathed together at some point. Certainly, she was over-

“EXCUSE ME!! Could you at least wait until you’re in a guest room to transform?! I’m still a lady, you lecherous lout!!” Nevermind. Even under the torch flame, her face was a brilliant red and turned away from him, her open palm a warning of violence against him if he moved too close. As past encounters had taught him. 

“Ingrid, we used to bathe together. I’m pretty sure you know what I look like,” he muttered, annoyed as her heavy steps marched ahead of him. She continued to ignore him, leading him to a room to their left and with great force, slammed the splintered wooden door open and quickly walked away.    
  


“I’ll be waiting out here when you’re dressed,” she called, practically shoving him in with her shoulder as she made her way out. Sylvain only sighed again, closing the door and pulling open the provided wardrobe and threw on the most practical set of clothes in it. 

* * *

“Gautier? What brings you to our door at this hour? And on the first night of Samhain, no less?” Ingrid’s father looked worse than the last time he saw him. He had obviously lost weight, eating less and giving more to his dutiful daughter, dark circles prominent under his sunken in eyes pointing to lost sleep, and the tremble in his hand as he tried to grip his cane showed the toll on his overall health this was taking. Under Ingrid’s morose gaze, he was a sad sight to see.

“The hunt was...Interrupted. We were ambushed by….Agarthan poachers, and were separated. I knew your lands were closest to our location at the time and hurried here alone to inform you and request whatever aid you can spare to give. I’m certain that Dedue and Empress Edelgard have Dimitri’s back should they be under attack. But me and Felix were able to lure and take down most of them anyway, and I’m pretty sure Edelgard’s men were handling the rest fine,” Sylvain answered. The room fell into a stern silence.

“You said they were hunters,” Ingrid seethed, glaring hot iron rods into the red wolf. 

“And there are ears outside these walls that can’t be trusted. You know that.” Sylvain was rarely, if ever, one to slip into his taciturn, cynical self, but poachers were something no one associated with the nightlings made light of.

“What help can we offer?” the old man asked, placing a soft hand over his daughter’s. 

“I need a small group, just enough to scour the area for more of them. They hunt in small clusters and seem to have found some way to bribe a few towns and villages into baiting us for slaughter. I think that we can flush them out though, since they still don’t seem to know about bound knights. You’ll be compensated handsomely, of course.” The offer seemed simple, and sensible. 

“I’m honored to be the first you turn to, but we have no men who can aid you at this time. I’m sorry,” the old man answered, looking truly crestfallen.

“.....Sylvain, please-” He put his hand up, halting Ingrid’s input. He knew what she was going to say, and he wanted none of it.

“Your old man has a point. You humans need your rest, and I trust the pack to survive this no problem. I’m going to ask you to fulfill my request in the morning, when you have aid to offer,” Sylvain stated, eyes softening at the relief in old man Galatea’s eyes. Ingrid, however, followed him out with livid determination in her eyes.

Perhaps because he knew she meant no harm or perhaps he was just too used to her by this point, Sylvain barely flinched as he felt the back of his tunic collar violently yanked and the rest of him thrown against a crumbling stone wall. Of course, Ingrid stood before him, lance in hand and fire in her eyes as she looked down on his form. 

“You have me. I’ll happily go out there and sweep the entire region if I have to. Why give them so much time? Why would you leave your pack out there alone for so long?! Why give my father the false hope of payment-” He lifted a hand and silenced her.

“I’m NOT letting you go out there alone and get yourself killed. I don’t know what or how Gustave trained you, but I, no, NONE of us, want any of you to just….Throw your Goddess damn lives away for some stupid idea of chivalric service to us. Did you know your mentor has a wife and daughter? Did you know he basically ABANDONED them to serve Lambert and Rodrigue? The messenger outpost is filled with letters from them and he hasn’t deigned it worth his time to even TOUCH them. I’m NOT letting you throw your life away like that. And it’s not false hope, I HAVE my own coffers, I’ll gladly pay you guys for your service tomorrow. Now let’s go get some goddess damned rest, okay?” Ingrid fell silent at his words. There was none of his usual playfulness, flirtatious banter, or half-assed attempts to lighten the stifling atmosphere between them. It felt...Odd, almost wrong. 

“Hah, if you keep talking like that, I might actually start thinking you really care about me,” she whispered, a mirthless and empty smile turning up on her lips as she watched the wolf walk away.

Sylvain’s steps stopped, and he turned around, stiff and mechanical. His steps, while quiet, echoed with an icy depth that had Ingrid just as frozen to her spot. 

“What did you just say?” His voice was barely above a whisper, head down and fists tight at his side. 

“Don’t joke Sylvain, I know we’re not the most well-off family of packbound knights, but let us have our pride! We don’t need your pity, I’ll earn our keep for my father-”

** _SLAP_ **

Sylvain had actually hit her, laid a hand on her. It wasn’t very hard, sure, but the sound still echoed, and her cheek still tingled. The redhead looked at her with the wildest, angriest eyes she’d ever seen on him, including when Miklan had basically defected with Glenn after a brutal fight with their fathers. 

“THAT’S WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!! CHIVALRY THIS, PRIDE THAT, DON’T YOUR LIVES ACTUALLY MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU!??!?!” he shouted, face as red as his hair with rage. As much as he and Felix squabbled and disagreed, they had seen and lived the horrors blind faith in chivalric hierarchy had left in its wake. His own father and Rodrigue Fraldarius had placed the comfort of their pack leaders over the hundreds of thousands of lives at risk after the incident in Duscur, an objectively cruel and stupid decision in the long run. They would happily and proudly die to protect their lieges, even if it meant abandoning and killing their own families, their own children. And while Dimitri and his father honestly had and would never taken such drastic measures, the idea that Ingrid was being molded into one who believed they did filled him with the darkest of emotions. 

“When we were kids, you said Glenn was the most noble, wonderful man ever and you wanted to be just like him. When he left with Miklan to go out and save nightlings all over, I felt the same way. But Gustave told you, told US, that they were dishonorable traitors. I thought you would say something. You didn’t. Because he told you not to. Because he taught you that your life, your family, the lives outside of this little bubble, the rest of the world, meant NOTHING compared to the whims of one family who just happen to be in charge of this region. And YOU FUCKING LISTENED TO HIM!!!” Sylvain was crying now, and had trapped Ingrid in his grip and his fingers dug into her shoulders, holding her in place. 

“And look at you! Listen to yourself! I don’t care about you? I FUCKING LOVE YOU!! We all care about you, as a person, as a friend, as a family! How….How the fuck could you think so little of yourself? Of your place with us? Of your own damn life?” He was wracked with stifled sobbing now, and Ingrid, watching the hard tension leave his shoulders, slowly placed a hand on his wet face. 

“I...I’m honestly surprised you’d say that. I’m still shocked, actually. Service is all I know, all I rely on, all that’s kept me and my family afloat for so many years, I….I guess I never believed I could actually BE someone to you guys,” Ingrid responded, quietly. “Not just collateral damage, or a human shield in worst case scenarios.” She suddenly found herself pressed tightly against Sylvain’s chest, his arms an iron vice around her waist. 

“Never. Never say that again. Goddess Ingrid, you’re worth more to me than my family’s estate and fortune combined. I’d give it all to you if you wanted, as long as you stayed with me forever.” Ingrid’s face was set aflame with embarrassment. Did he just? So he was? What?! 

“Oh, s-so, you actually meant that…?” Her friend pushed her at arms’ length, eyes practically boring into her soul, before pressing his lips to hers and squeezing her against his body once again. When he separated from her, she was hoisted over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes and rushed into the guest room he had been occupying earlier. With little effort, even with all her armor on, he tossed her into the bed and pinned her under his much taller body, eyes practically glowing with desire. 

“You obviously don’t believe me when I say it, so I’m going to show you instead.” His voice rumbled softly against her ear, his breath causing her hair to stand on end and goosebumps to rise. He had no problem throwing off her armor, leaving kisses on every exposed expanse of skin he uncovered along the way. She was very quickly left a blushing mess in her thin dress shirt and tight riding pants, watching as Sylvain easily tossed his tunic to the floor and shuffled out of his trousers with ease. Instinctively, she turned away, a little light headed from the blood rushing up her brain at the idea of seeing him naked in front of her. Well, he was having none of that. 

“Hey,” he teased, lying on his side in a relaxed slouch, looking up at Ingrid’s blushing face. She tried to cover her eyes with her hands, but he held them in place, just gazing back at her with hooded eyes and a smooth, soft grin. Goddess, she tried to look ANYWHERE else, but he had made it his personal mission to be the only thing in her space. Ingrid trained her eyes to his face, but something caught her eye, and Sylvain soon found himself under the woman.

“Oh, Goddess, how did this happen? What else are you-How did you run all the way here with this kind of damage?” Her shyness was quickly forgotten as she fretted over him, scanning him for more bullet wounds and cuts, which, while endearing, was not what Sylvain wanted. He swatted her hands away from his honestly light injuries, finally pinning her under him again. 

“I’m fine. Just graze wounds. They’ll be gone by morning. Now, let me service YOU for once, dammit.” He peppered light kisses on her worry-stricken face, chuckling at how cute she was. His lips left a trail down her neck, ending where her shirt collar began, and a mischievous grin graced his face. Still holding Ingrid down, he lowered his head to the hem of her shirt, nudging it up and laying light kisses on each expanse of skin he revealed. Ingrid held back a giggle, her toes and fingers curling in a poor attempt to break loose. “Oh? Is Ingrid the Valkyrie ticklish?” he teased, kissing her belly button and pulling her tights down with his teeth. 

“Sylvain! What are you doing?!” she squeaked, squirming under him as his weight shifted on top of her. While her hands were freed, the man had lifted her dress shirt all the way up and was leaving kisses along her torso as his other hand dove into her pants. All she could do was bear his ministrations, trying to deny the warmth each kiss left on her skin and ignore the fire that sparked in her belly. Her breath hitched when he wrapped his warm lips on her now exposed right nipple and his finger brushed against her clit. 

“I’m going to service you all night, and I dare you to deny that I fucking love you after this,” he answered, voice low and svelt against her breast. He laved each nipple with affectionate suckling, the circumference of her areola getting tentative licks and the mound of her breast made victim by his light, teasing butterfly kisses. His hand was taking its time under her bottoms, lightly stroking from the tip of her bud down to the wet slit of her core and back up again, in the same torturous rhythm. Any time his hardness accidently rubbed against her, his hands and mouth would get a bit rougher, but always went back to the painfully slow pace he had set. Ingrid was sure that he was killing her with his softness. Having fully left his mark on her chest, Sylvain yanked down her pants to expose her now soaking entrance, making a show of licking his lips as he thumbed her clit with a little extra added pressure. The blonde jolted up in pleasure, an aroused squeal falling from her lips, her hands rushing to cover her mouth in embarrassment. The redhead looked at her face with glee. Spreading her legs, he lowered himself between her thighs, testing her reaction with the tip of his tongue to the tip of her jewel. 

“W-wait, Sylvain, I-EEEK!!” Oh, he liked that. He wrapped his lips around it like he did her nipple, and with the gentlest of licks, slowly drove Ingrid crazy with arousal. All she could do was squirm and moan as he assaulted her with his tongue, inching his tongue slowly into her, his fingers moving over her clit with each lick. Sylvain’s eyes were hooded and enraptured by the blonde’s reactions, very appreciative of his handiwork. 

“Goddess, you’re beautiful,” he sighed, replacing his tongue with his finger. Thumbing her clit and inserting his fingers one by one, he returned to trailing kisses up her body as she tightened around him, and with a flex of his index finger, Ingrid cried out in ecstasy, toes curling and fisting the sheets under her. Sylvain only chuckled in response.

* * *

There was an urgent rapping at his door, and Sylvain pulled himself up out of bed to answer. A messenger was waiting, an urgent expression on his face even at this unholy hour. He looked back at his bed, Ingrid still snoring and rolled up in a lump of blankets. 

“Make this quick,” he whispered. The messenger nodded silently, handing him a damp, clearly hastily written note. Scanning through it quickly, Sylvain smiled, filled with a sudden surge of relief. “Let every messenger outpost know of Dimitri’s and Edelgard’s safety immediately. Don’t forget to add that, Sir Sylvain Jose Gautier, am also safe and sound in Galatea territory. Make haste sir,” he commanded, voice still low as not to wake his companion. With a nod, the messenger practically ran down the hall, a letting out a strange and loud “WHOOOOOOT!!!!” echoing far behind him. Huh. What was THAT all about? 

  
  



	4. A Touch Of Spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Berith Sothis Eisner is sent to the Leicester Alliance to meet with its newest leader and hopefully secure diplomatic relations for the Nabateans. She didn't expect the man to be so....Mouthwatering....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Sothis, I had like, 13 pages of this typed out before the holidays, but as I was editing it, I found I HATED it, so I erased EVERYTHING and started again from scratch! Feel free to criticize me in the comments....

**A Touch Of Spice**

When Dimitri had returned to Fhirdiad, Edelgard and Dedue in tow, news of the ambush spread like wildfire. When the vampiress made her trek home to Enbarr, her entire family, and entourage, were waiting for her at the gate of her family home. Hubert instantly began looking for any traitors in their midst, thoroughly convinced that someone had tipped the Agarthans off. At the joint request of Sylvain on the wolves' side and Hubert for the vampires, covert messages were sent to every nightling power in Fodlan. 

"So...You're going to meet the new Alliance kid?" In a castle at the center of the continent, a small family of the surviving Nabatean dragons were preparing to meet with their fellow nightlings for the first time in over 500 years. 

"Jeralt, I'm sure Berith and Byleth can handle themselves. Now come, Sothis has requested we meet with the wolves," another voice interjected. 

"Look, I'm just saying, the guys who almost wiped you off the face of the Earth are starting to do some damage, and we're sending out our young'uns out there to deal with that? Sounds like a shitty idea to me," the concerned human grumbled, giving his draconic wife a skeptical look. 

While sparse in numbers now, the influence and power of the dragons was still very palpable throughout the continent. The current ruling dragon, Sothis, was aiming to retire, and, rather than select one of her children as heir, decided instead to send them off as diplomats to forge political bonds with others. It resulted in three half-blooded grandchildren, whom she doted on endlessly, even as she was about to send them off one by one as diplomats themselves into dangerous territory. 

"Dad, we'll be fine," a half-Nabatean girl sighed, brushing her father's hand aside as she finished packing her travel bag. Her father, a human oathbound knight looked on at her and her older brother with a concerned scowl. 

"I only know two people at best from Leicester territory, kids. And I'm sending my baby girl in to meet the new brat in charge? Of course I'm worried," he said, voice heavy. 

"Jeralt, dear, Byleth and Berith can handle this. We've raised them on the battlefield, fighting before they could even speak. You know us dragons are tougher than we look," a woman with dark blue hair stated, pulling her beloved's attention from their children. 

"I think Seiros is nuts, and you know it. I mean, sending Byleth to the Abyssal Plains and Berith to the Leicester Alliance alone, without each other? Just...Makes me worry." His eldest son, Byleth, laid a reassuring hand on his father's shoulder. 

"We'll be fine dad, trust us. We're YOUR kids after all." His parents hugged him before Sothis, the Elder Dragon of their tribe (and their grandmother), whisked him away in a magical flurry. Their daughter, Berith, opened her arms too as she slung her bag over her shoulder. 

"You just focus on keeping those Faergus wolves in line, okay dad?" And with a whirl, she too was gone. 

Ancient magic made getting from one place to another faster than on foot or steed, but it did leave those being transported pretty disoriented upon landing. As such was the case for Berith, who ended up face down on a sandy, seaside market street. From the smell of saltwater and wash of voices, this was without a doubt Derdriu, the market capital of the Leicester Alliance. 

"Hey, you okay there?" Berith pushed herself up, brushing sand and gravel off of her body, quite surprised to see a very large hound over her. Unlike the wide, sturdy wolves of Faergus her father had introduced her to, this werewolf seemed lanky, almost jackal-like in appearance. On his ear was a single gold earring, which was odd for the men of Fodlan, if he was a man based on his voice alone. 

"I-I'm mostly fine, thank you. I'm looking to reach the Von Riegan estate, if you don't mind. I have an important meeting to attend," she said, waiting for the initial dizziness of standing wear off. 

"Well, you're in luck! I was heading back there myself. Come on, I'll gladly escort you...?" 

"Berith. Berith Sothis Eisner of the Nabatean dragons," she said, remembering to curtsey as she introduced herself. The wolf bowed back in response. 

"It's an honor to meet you, Miss Eisner. I hope we can learn more about each other back at the estate," he said. Strange. He didn't give her his name yet, but led her through the crowded streets and stalls nonetheless. Before she knew it, they stood before a magnificent stone structure, fortressed with white and grey, gold adorning the doors. 

The estate was every bit as magnificent inside as it was outside. The walls were a clean white stone, ornate pearl and gold inlay leaving detailed geometric designs and shimmer above each doorway. There were large windows throughout the palace, all leading to stunning views of the ocean, bustling ports, and white sand beaches. 

"Enjoying the view?" her guide teased, nudging her hand with his muzzle. 

"Oh, yes, sorry." Berith returned her focus to the wolf, who began pacing away toward an archway leading to another wing. 

"Please, take a seat. The host will come shortly to greet you," he said, disappearing as Berith gingerly sat down on an ornate, soft armchair. 

Apparently, Berith and her expected host had different definitions of shortly. Or perhaps that was just her nerves finally catching up to her. It had felt like more than a half hour since she'd seated herself, and yet no sign of life had passed by. Restless, she moved to stand, but moved back at the sound of something jingling in the hall. 

"I'm sorry. Did I keep you long? I was caught up in a lecture about etiquette and decorum while getting dressed." Her host looked...Younger than she had imagined, her age or slightly older, like her brother. His skin was darker than any Fodlish human she'd ever met, his hair dark and wavy, completely different from the people of Duscur. But it was his lone gold earring that caught her eye. 

"I see young Lord von Riegan enjoys sneaking out of his estate?" Berith teased, a strange sense of relief washing over her. 

"Please, never call me that again. I was born Aladdin Duban Al-Maliki, prince of the Almyran djinn, but here, I'm Claude von Riegan, current leader of Leicester's packs." With a flourish, he bowed, looking to her with a charming wink. The Nabatean envoy was not ready for that, and suddenly found her face rather...Warm. 

"So, just Claude is fine?" she asked, her hands fiddling in her lap. 

"Unless you have something else you'd like to call me, sure! So, what brings Fodlan's dragons out into the world after so long?" His voice was light and jovial as he sat down in the chair before her, but his green eyes seemed....Calculating, as if sizing her up. 

"I'm sure you've heard of the incident during Samhain, your pack is of blood relation to the Blaiddyds," she started, meeting his gaze. He nodded, his posture still relaxed and maintaining a nonplussed front.

“Of a very distant relation, but close enough to remain in contact, yes,” he responded with a shrug.

“The Agarthans were once a band of rogue hunters led by a man named Nemesis, who had somehow stumbled upon a way to create weapons of mass destruction using the remains of fallen nightlings. He ordered a genocide of my mother’s people, with very few making it out alive, including my grandmother, the current sitting elder. They’ve razed entire cities off the map with weapons carved from dragon bone, machines powered with dragon hearts, and used dragon blood to poison critics and dissenters alike, and now, we’re certain they intend to do the same to other groups as well, if the Duscur massacre was anything to go by.” Claude’s brow creased, his face tensed, and his eyes narrowed, digesting her words carefully. Berith had heard of how clever this young leader was to be given charge of the entire territory at such a young age, but watching the gears in his mind turn was another thing altogether. He shifted his position, leaning in toward her, as if to analyze her better. A cold tingle went down her spine at his intense gaze. 

“And what, pray tell, are you requesting of me to do about this situation? I’ll be honest, I haven’t been in Fodlan long enough to fully grasp the impact of your clan’s decimation, but I can tell you I’m not a fan of genocidal maniacs turning this mess of a country into an even bigger disaster.” While his words were gentle, his eyes were cold and analytical, letting her know that he did not trust her. Yet. This was what Berith had come to do after all. 

“Listening to our case is enough for now, honestly. You’ve kept this rowdy alliance together despite your short time here, and you’ve expanded the horizons of the territory, both geographically and culturally, if looking at the markets is anything to go by. I….I feel like you will be able to do amazing things with the history of my mother’s people, especially with the Agarthans attacking again. I’ve been advised to stay for at least a month to, if not convince you, then to at least warn you about a possible upcoming war. I’ll….I’ll leave if you don’t want me to stay, but I find your situation...Peculiar, and I’d love to learn more about you. I’ll let you pick at my brain in return,” she responded, with the diplomatic grace and politeness instilled in her by her mother and (overbearing) aunt. Claude simply stared back at her, his brow raised in thought. Berith felt a strange fluttering in her stomach as he continued to gaze at her intently. As well-practiced as her stone still expression was, the thrumming of her heartbeat and odd discomfort screamed at her inside. She knew she had arrived without food or drink, so it wasn't indigestion, but why would her nerves be this on edge? Before she could continue to overthink, her body made it quite clear she needed food. Her face reddened considerably, Claude breaking out into laughter at the sound. 

"Well, I see we've been in here for a bit too long! What kind of host would I be to let an honored guest starve?" he teased, standing up from his seat, holding a hand out to her in a bow, eyes lidded and lips quirked up. Still red in the face, Berith placed her hand in his, intending to play along, until he pulled her hand into a kiss, giving her another charming wink. She was quite sure whatever hot tingle went down her abdomen had nothing to do with hunger. 

Pulling her up, Claude whisked her through the archway, the world around her roaring to life as they passed bustling servants, strolling officials and diplomats, and even the occasional cat through the halls. Her hand felt secure and comfortably warm wrapped in his, which never let go of hers as he led her out. The first thing she noticed as they entered the gazebo was the smell. Berith's mouth watered at the fragrance of herbs, spices, baked goods and perfectly cooked meats wafting from the wonderfully set table. Still playing perfect gentleman, her host pulled out a chair for her, waiting until she was comfortably seated before releasing her hand. 

"I hope you're not afraid of a bit of spice. I find a lot of Fodlish food a bit bland, but please help yourself to whatever you want. And feel free to ask what anything is," he said, reaching for a thick flatbread and a skewer of grilled meats from the table. She indulged in falafel and kabobs, pita bread, tzatziki, rabbit skewers and goat off of an open fire, and fell in love with baklava paired with Almyran pine needle tea. So entranced by the meal before her, she didn't notice the way Claude watched her with softness and a dreamy sigh, admiring how she vocalized her love of food and almost melted at the gleaming joy in her eyes.

"I'm glad you like the food," he stated, laughing as she nodded in gleeful agreement with another fold of meat and pita in her mouth. "You'll be trying more of it tonight. I've arranged for an audience with the other alliance leaders. I don't think you need to do anything else but speak your purpose and plight here, but my mother tells me Fodlan has a silly obsession with formalities and all of its ilk." Berith chuckled at his comment, remembering the exasperated faces of her father and uncles at such hearings. 

"I don't think they'd be very impressed if I told them I was here for the food and charming conversion though," she jested, and the two fell into giggles, talking like old friends. 

Hunger sated and grinning ear to ear, Berith let herself be led by Claude's hand to a luxurious guest room. 

"I don't know if you're the type, but a nap after a large meal is how I like to prepare for a lengthy political forum. There's a basin of water for cleaning in the latrine, and towels for you by the bed. Do whatever you feel you need to for tonight, the rest of the old crocks are sticklers for propriety and first impressions after all. Do you need any formal wear for the evening?" Berith shook her head, having gone through the formalities in her head over and over and over under Seiros' and Sothis' guidance already. Once again, Claude laid a kiss on her hand, with a wink, and let her be. As he closed the door, Berith tossed her travel bag onto the bed, throwing herself onto the pile of plush cushions and pillows, and screamed. Claude seemed to do an immaculate job of leaving her heart pounding in her ears, sending her thoughts to places very inappropriate for an important diplomatic mission. Oh, if her father and Byleth saw her now, they'd be rolling in laughter. Her mother would do one worse and tell her all about the supposed whirlwind romance that led to her and her brother. Again. 

_ "Take him by the neck and show HIM a good time!"  _ She groaned, the playful cackling of her very....Outspoken grandmother, Sothis, would "advise." Despite their race being nigh annihilated, there was a reason they had such a big immediate family, after all. Berith turned over and laid there, staring blankly at the high ceiling of her room, letting her nerves settle with the food in her stomach. In the embrace of the bed, she let herself drift off for a nap, green and gold the last thing she thought of before the world fell to a quiet black. 

Well rested, Berith awoke to the sun just dipping below the horizon, her room bathed in a warm, orange glow. There was chatter all around, carriage wheels and hoofbeats accompanying the white noise that was shouting outside. Her time had come. She dropped out of her current ensemble, taking a towel from the foot of the bed and tossing it into the basin of cleaning water. Jasmine petals and the smell of frankincense clung to her as she wiped herself down with the wet towel, shuddering at how cold it was. From her travel bag, she pulled out her formal wear for the night. 

Looking into the mirror provided in her guest room, she tightened the tassel of the headpiece on last time, and with a twirl, sighed in relief. Nabatean ceremonial garb was considerably much more revealing than Fodlish formal wear, but Berith strut in it with pride. 

Opening the door, two attendants bowed before her from the hallway, silently leading her to the grand hall away from the building. The view of Almyra from the bridgeway was stunning, painted in orange, pinks, and purples as the sun continued to set. The attendants bowed once again, pushing open the large door leading into the audience chamber. 

Claude tapped his fingers against the polished wooden table, trying his absolute best not to snap at the complaining men around him. Lord Gloucester and his son were starting to grate on his nerves again, always criticizing his slouch, his "mixed-up clothes," and anything and everything they deemed less than proper. Lady Judith Daphnel to his right had already helped herself to at least two glasses of wine, seeming to groan at every complaint thrown at Claude's face. Thankfully, the doors finally opened, their guest of honor arriving. 

"Lords and ladies of the Leicester Alliance, I am Berith Sothis Eisner, envoy of the Nabatean dragonkin, and honored to have my case heard in your audience." As she spoke of the Agarthans, the genocide, and possibility of war, all Claude could do was gaze intensely, hungrily at her. Her dress left very little to his very active imagination, and every time she turned, sashayed, or walked ever closer to the roundtable, all he could think of were the creative ways he'd remove it from her. Judith looked rather smug for some reason, trading amused words to Lord Holst Goneril and his sister, Hilda, beside her. They probably had another bet going on behind his back, but all that needed his attention right now was the woman before him. 

With another deep bow, Berith finished her statement. She knew Claude had been paying attention, but he alone was not to decide Leicester's next move. She waited on baited breath as she watched them debate, eyes having some difficulty looking away from the man in gold at the table's head. 

"Thank you very much for taking your time to come before us personally about this incident. Your information is and will be a most valuable asset moving forward from this attack," Judith said, smiling at her with a raised glass. 

"We will be more than happy to cement this exchange of information, as well as provide any aid your people deem necessary. It is only with the noblest intentions that you were sent here, and we are proud to answer your call," a man with purple hair added, bowing from his seat. 

"Very well. I'm sure we're weary from tonight's discussion, so I call this forum adjourned. A feast awaits!" With a clap, Claude stood, a group of attendants leading the rest of the lords and ladies out to the dining hall. Berith waited patiently until Claude made his way toward her, once again offering his hand to her. She took it without a second thought, but squeaked in surprise when she was pulled into a rather rough kiss, his free arm holding her tightly against him. She gasped as she felt a sharp canine nip her bottom lip, and was suddenly having a hard time breathing. Claude pulled away from her, foreheads leaning against each other, his eyes lidded and boring into her own. “...Claude?” 

“It’s going to take a while before the cooks finish preparing the feast. But I see my dessert right here, and I’m having a hard time not eating it right now,” he responded, voice low, husky, and sending a fire down to her loins, lip now between her own teeth. “So, wanna spoil dinner with me?” Berith’s hands flew to his neck, fisting his soft, unruly hair and crashing their lips together again. Claude waved his hand behind her, a strong wind whisking them off from the hall, never once separating from each other. 

With surprise, Berith found herself tossed onto a plush, silky surface, Claude soon leaping onto her, his mouth raining kisses on every space of exposed skin her dress allowed. Gasps and quiet moans escaped her lips, fisting her hands into the gold layer of silk under her, legs rubbing against each other to stifle the lust exploding between them. “I don’t believe in the divine, but I’d definitely kneel at your feet and sing you prayers in this thing,” she heard, Claude’s whisper a breath against her ear, his hands playing with the white and pink ribbons elaborately braided into her chartreuse hair. 

“You seem like you want it off right now though,” she teased, lightly running a finger down his open collar, trailing down between his exposed pectorals, laying her hand flat against his heartbeat. It seemed to match her own, loud and erratic beneath the whips of hair on his chest. He in turn fingered the large window of cleavage her dress provided, tugging at it lightly as if to pull it down.    
  


“I do, but it would be improper to wear less than this finery to dinner,” he chuckled, pressing himself against her deeper into the bed. She giggled, gently pushing him back up slowly, and carefully, remove her outfit. Claude began disrobing as well, tossing his finery to the floor with much less care, watching her undress with appreciation as he laid on his bed, in all his naked glory. If there was any kind of doubt in Berith’s mind that he wouldn’t be interested in her, his lower salute practically threw them out of a window and into the vast, black sea. As soon as she was bared before him as well, they found themselves wound tightly against each other on the bed again. Their lip lock was ravenous, laying teeth and tongues on face and neck, their hands all over each other. Berith’s legs were spread apart, wrapped around Claude’s hip, teasing each other with every twitch and buck. His hands were rested over her generous bosom, fingers sinking into the soft, pliable flesh. He got a very pleased moan out of her as his thickness rubbed against the nub at the apex of her thighs, teasing her hardened nipples as he laid more love bites on her collarbone. 

“Claude...I..Think that’s...Enough-” Berith’s comment was replaced by a long, loud exclamation of pleasure as Claude sunk himself deep into her with one swoop. She had been dripping onto him and the bedsheets, but he hissed at just how tight she was. Her hips bucked up against his, and with a choked gasp, set an almost brutal pace. Her hips were suspended over his own, head tossing back and forth with hands almost tearing into the silk, nothing but intelligible cries of ecstasy between them. He spent himself inside of her, continuing to thrust until his partner gave out in mind-shattering orgasm, a blissfully tired smile on her face. With some hesitation, Claude pulled out, rolling over to rest at her side, arm against his sinfully smug face. Berith lolled her head to face him, eyes soft with post-coitus leisure, and breathed out a small chuckle. 

“You did say you’d be staying for at least a month, but I hope you’ll be sticking around longer than that. I’d like to get to know you some more, maybe even engage you in courtship,” he teased, again with a wink and planting a small kiss on her sweaty forehead. 

“I might consider it, if you don’t mind having me for that long.” 

“Oh, I’d love to have you, every day and night, for as long as possible.” He pushed himself up, holding out his hand to her again. Sapped of physical strength for the moment though, all Berith could do was drop her hand into his, but was pleasantly surprised when he pulled her up and into his arms, like a princess from the books her parents used to read to her and her brother as young children.    
  


“Well, we still have some time to make ourselves presentable for the feast, so how about we share an Almyran bath?” There was a promise of something much less clean than bathing in his voice, but she nodded, sighing and resting her head against his warm chest. 

“Just make sure we actually get to the feast. I’m getting hungry, and I DO want to enjoy more of Leicester cuisine.” He responded with a laugh, carefully making his way out to the baths with her in tow. 

Completely absorbed in one another, the couple didn’t realize that they had been heard, on purpose, no less, by three of Riegan’s most loyal troublemakers. 

“Alright, alright, fine, you were right,” Lord Goneril grumbled, throwing a small sack of gold coins at Judith. Next to him, Hilda held out her hands as well, fake puppy dog eyes glistening up at her brother. With a pout, he tossed her a bag of coins as well, grumbling something or other about being ganged up or taken advantage of.

“Well, we still have an hour before the food’s ready. How about another bet?” Judith suggested, shit-eating grin on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'll be updating until after I've played the Ashen Wolves, since the next chapter hints at some smut between one of them and Byleth(m). Just not sure which one yet...Feel free to tell me who you think would be a great candidate!...Or to tell me I suck...I'd understand....


End file.
